The Time for Sleep is Now
by iS2.coheed.and.cambria
Summary: Death fic. Sam’s letting go.


Title: The Time for Sleep is Now

Author: T

Summary: Death fic. Sam's letting go.

Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would be begging to go back to Kripke, he treats them much better… Don't own them!

A/N: Ok the title is after the Death cab for cutie song "I will follow you into the dark". And this story came to me while I was in the shower, listening to bright eyes hehe hope you enjoy : ) If you can enjoy character death…

"Dean?"

There was a slight silence, well, silence apart from water splashing lightly on something solid, and the whispering of wind on nothing, since we are, of course in the middle of the ocean.

Middle of the ocean?

What?

"Dean, where…"

That's when I feel it. The hand gripping my shirt, holding me up from the endless depths of the water bellow us. My lifeline, my brother.

I open my eyes for a second and try to blink away the salt water falling into them, try to cast away the realization that there is no ship, no float, nothing to keep my head above the water, well, except for my brother.

Where is my brother?

I feel his hand on my shirt, but I see no body, no face. His comfort is there, his general big brother presence is still the reason I'm breathing, but no big brother is in sight. The self-proclaimed 'good-looking one' that one 'who always got the extra cookie', I can't see him. I need to see him.

And just then I look down and see. My brother's figure is holding me up not just his hand. And he's underwater, probably holding his breath since you can't breathe underwater. And he's alive right? He has to be alive; I mean there's no way he's-

Dead.

What if my brother is dead?

So I reach my hand down, and the movement is enough to startle him and he shoots back up to the top of the water, where air is all that surrounds us. And we both move away and let basic instinct take over, because when you're in water you have to tread. So we tread like our lives depend on it.

Oh wait. They do.

The splashes sound more and more urgent, as both of us search for any thing to hold on to, anything other than ourselves to keep them afloat. But there's nothing.

"Sam? Sammy… Your hurt Sammy…"

It takes a minute or two for me to completely register my brother's words. First he says my name. Ok. Right. Then he say's _Sammy_. Dean, won't you ever learn it's- wait, never mind. Because when I hear the next words everything comes into focus.

Because when I hear 'hurt', I suddenly feel how cold the water really is. How icy my brother's hand is as it come under my elbow to support me. Now I see that when my brother and I speak, our breath is shaded white. But even with this deathly cold water surrounding me, it' still not enough to numb the pain. Because now there is pain attacking my entire body. There's no one place to pinpoint where it's coming from, it's coming from everywhere.

"Dean…" I moan. God, I sound so pathetic.

"Hey… hey, it's ok. Just keep your head above the water. You'll be fine."

Ok, Dean… Wait. We're in the middle of the ocean. I'm hurt. You're holding me up- using yourself. There is no cell phone to use. No 911 to call. Even if there was, where do we tell them we are? Middle of the ocean. Next to the wave and the other wave. Under the cloud that looks like- wait, that'll never work.

And Dean, why are you letting your head go under for a few seconds. And why aren't we even bothering to attempt to swim? Why are we just sitting- or swimming- or treading here waiting to die? Why am I letting you die?

I quickly pull away as I realize that I'm the reason my brother is only breathing every once and a while. I try to support myself, but when I do I find my body feels heavy, and is pulling me down. My head gently slips under the water, and I have just enough time to close my eyes before the salt water penetrates them. No one hears me let out a small cry when I feel Dean grab me by the shoulders and pull me back up.

Come on, Dean. Think about yourself for once.

"Sam, don't do that, lean on me…"

What are you kidding? Lean on you, and what? Drown you? No thanks Dean.

"No Dean… Can't… Do that…" Shit. Talking is harder than I thought.

Dean looks at me, his own version of the puppy dog face. Not nearly as affective as mine, but right now just about anything is enough to break me. Except of course my brother letting himself die.

"Sam let me help you,"

I don't say anything; just try to understand what Dean is thinking. What does he expect to happen? Die trying to keep me above water and leave me out here all alone. He's knows when he dies, I die. Maybe he just wants to make sure he's the one to go first, make damn sure he dies saving me. Yeah that's probably it.

But Dean's not hurt. Dean's treading water like nothing. Keeping himself from drowning in that icy water with almost no effort. Dean can swim. Dean can stay alive waiting for a boat or something. There's always miracles. Or imaginations.

I take a good long look at Dean. Trying to save me as usual. My hand is now in his and look down at it as if I can see it through the murky water. I can't.

But his hand is there, grasping mine. It's not much, but in a minute or two I'm gonna start sinking again. Dean will have to hold me up. Keep me alive. And he'll do this until he's the one that looses all his energy and sinks down to the ocean floor. Fifty, sixty feet below. Who knows, maybe it's only ten.

I feel the waves becoming stronger, and the wind picking up around us and I offer one last sympathetic glance before I let go. Leave his comfort behind. Let the waves carry me away. Let me be the savior for once.

I hear a storm building and Dean slap the water in frustration. I know he's trying to come after me, but I'm too far gone. I hear him call my name before I go under and hear the quiet humming of the ocean. The almost angelic peace of not breathing.

It's in that peaceful moment I realize there is no water. There's no storm. The darkness surrounding me is the view behind my eyelids, not the murky waters. The cold blanketing me is the illness, not the ocean. The noise I heard was the machines around me, not the water lapping against us. There's no night. No drowning brothers. No peace.

There's just me. Lying worthlessly on a hospital bed surrounded by doctors and green and bed sheets and dull light and Dean. Dean. And I didn't let go of his hand, he let go of mine. Let go when the doctors needed to work on me, bring me back to life. Flat-lined I bet.

That's right we were in the hospital. I was injured after some nameless hunt. There was a surgery. Mistake. Infection. Fever. Coma.

I hear Dean calling my name, begging me not to do this. Begging me to fight it. Wake up. And god dammit open my eyes! And he's not saying it but I know he's thinking it I'm one selfish bastard to give up. To let go.

I try to make my mouth form words, but I'm not in my body anymore. I don't have control of those vocal cords or tongue or mouth anymore. I can't control anything anymore. The calls are becoming distant as I feel myself drifting away again. I can't get my feet to touch the ground, sturdy myself. Can't hold on to something. I'm being pulled away. And as urgent as I am to get back into my body, follow my brother's orders, I can't resist the peace and the rest for my tired body and the knowing.

The knowing that Dean can rest. That we can both just rest. I'm still saving Dean. I'm stilling being the savior by letting go.

Right?


End file.
